


Fate

by RumbleFish14



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Elves, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Evil, Fae & Fairies, Fluff and Angst, Folklore, Gallavich, Goblins, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Supernatural Elements, Trolls, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28610973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumbleFish14/pseuds/RumbleFish14
Summary: Ian takes a trip to Ireland for work as a photographer and finds more in the Woods than he would have expected
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32





	Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, trying out fairies. This is new so work with me on this, googling as much about the folklore as possible as well as all Ireland aspects

Fate  
Chapter One- A Walk In The Woods

Glendalough, meaning "Valley of two lakes,” is a glacial valley in County Wicklow, Ireland, renowned for an Early Medieval monastic settlement founded in the 6th century by St Kevin. From 1825 to 1957, the head of the Glendalough Valley was the site of a galena lead mine. It’s also a recreational area for picnics, for walking along networks of maintained trails of varying difficulty, and also for rock-climbing. 

For Ian Gallagher, it was simply one of the most beautiful places he’d ever been to, and that was saying something. He’d been around the world at least twice, taking some of the best pictures, at least in his opinion and the photography company, Gloss Photography Studio, based out of his hometown in Chicago, thought so too. He was one of the highest paid photographers in that company and wasn’t surprised by the beauty of the world anymore.

Until now.

Ireland was magical in a way other places weren’t. Places all over the world that could easily take your breath away. He’d been in Dublin for almost two weeks and he still couldn’t catch his breath. There were so many places to visit, so many places to capture, and not just the well known places, because people could see those anytime they wanted with Google. No, it was his job to capture the beauty of places unknown to the world, places you had to search to find, hidden places, lost places, sometimes even dangerous places. Like the last photo he took, had him dangling off a sixty foot waterfall, soaked to the bone, freezing cold in the dead of night…just to find that perfect angle. And he had.

There was a sense of accomplishment after taking photos like that. Ones that no one else had taken, making him the first to capture it and share with the world. Seeing it in a photo wasn’t nearly the same as in real life, up close and personal like he saw it, but it was damn close. It inspired people to get out of their 8X10 prison cells at work and see the beauty of the world, to see what waited for them, to see past the unhappiness of their day to day life and embrace that beauty, to allow it to change you. 

Dublin had been an adventure all its own. And as a tourist, because he really, really was, he visited all those places on that cheesy map you could pick up at any local gas station. He visited Dublin Castle, Phoenix Park, Kilmainham Gaol—a former prison, Malahide Castle and Gardens, River Liffey, Ha’penny Bridge, Dublin Bay, Glasevin Cemetery, Powerscourt Waterfall and Dublinia—a Viking/medieval museum. He took more photos than he had room for on his hard drive and all of his memory cards, so much so that he had to buy more.

Glendalough had been his next stop, it was about an hour away from Dublin and it was well worth it even when it was like Dublin, tourist central. He once again visited the well known places. Places like Gateway, The Cathedral, Roundtower, St. Kevin’s Church, Wicklow away, over four hours of trails through the mountains, and the Upper Lake. Glendalough was also a good place to look for some of Ireland's newest breeding species, such as the goosander and the great spotted woodpecker, and some of the rarest, such as the common redstart and the wood warbler; peregrine, white-throated dipper, common cuckoo, eurasian jay and common buzzard. 

He was less interested in the monuments and more interested in the animals and the dense forests all around him. He could easily take one of those trails and get lost for hours on end and come out the other side with a breathtaking smile, mud on his face and a camera full of spectacular photos. That’s what made the day worth it in the end, at least for him.

As amazing as that was, there were already photos of most of those places. He went simply because he wanted to see them in person, take his own photos, then some for work but it wasn’t what he was after. To get those, he had to step off the grid for a while, to get lost in the woods, to take a wrong turn or wander down a off beaten path. 

Chicago wasn’t doing it for him anymore. He needed out of the big city with too much pollution, too many people and not enough open air and new places to see. He’d been born and raised in the Windy City and inches away from moving before his boss suggested a vacation of sorts. He could take a few weeks, or months, and enjoy places he’d never seen and gain some perspective before making such a rash decision such as leaving. Now he was tempted to pack up and move to Dublin. Which was the opposite of what his boss wanted. 

To get away from Dublin and Glendalough, to explore the lesser known places of Ireland, Ian packed up his hotel room—which consisted mostly of camera equipment—and caught the nearest train to Gorey, then he’d take a bus to Courtown Woods in Wexford. He settled in the compartment with his messenger bag, inside held a smaller version of his favorite camera, an iPod and a pair of headphones, his journal of this entire trip, and his laptop. While he waited for everyone else to board, he finished uploading all the photos he’d taken from Glendalough and started sorting through which ones he wanted to keep and which he would toss. He always tossed more than he kept. 

As the train took him from one place to another, he zoned out in the scenery. He set down his laptop and took in the trees most of all, some as well as skyscrapers while others were barely the size of him, they passed more than one house, or cottage, whichever you’d prefer to call it. The sky was clear and blue, which is why he chose to come in the spring time and not in summer. He opened his mind to the beauty he saw and enjoyed it for once instead of trying to capture it for others, his camera remained in his bag the entire trip.

The bus from Gorey was quick, it felt like he blinked and he was there, taking in the wholesome looking place. As much as he wanted to jump right in and get as lost as he possibly could, he wasn’t ready yet. He needed a new hotel room for a while , possibly longer than his two week stay in Dublin, he needed a shower, something to eat, to let his camera batteries charge and to repack his bag. He held his jacket tight around his body to ward off the chill, sling his bag around his shoulders and made his way past all the little shops and buildings until he found a hotel. 

The Marlfield House Hotel was magnificent. One of the more expensive hotels he’d stayed out since arriving in Ireland a few weeks ago. It had forty acres of woodlands and gardens two kilometers from Kia Ora Mini farm and five from the beach—both of which he hoped to avoid. He entered the hotel and was met with a large smile from the woman behind the counter. 

“Welcome to the Marlfield House Hotel, my name is Rebecca. How can I help you this afternoon?”

Ian offered a genuine smile, no doubt showing how good of a mood he was actually in. “Yes, I need a room please.”

“Of course.” She moved a ways down to the computer. “Name?”

“Ian Gallagher.”

“Is it just you, dear?”

His smile widened. “Yes, ma’am. Just me.”

“And how long will you be staying with us?”

That was always the hardest question. He never really knew how long he would stay in one place before he moved to the next. He’d heard nothing but great things about Courtown Woods, good, yet mysterious things, and he was excited to explore every inch of this place before moving on.

“For now let’s just say two weeks.” Ian replied and dug into his pack pocket for his wallet. He handed the platinum card over and her eyes widened. “I’m here for work and I’m never sure how long I’ll be here.”

“Of course.” She typed on the computer, then scrolled down with the mouse. “We are almost full up. Spring is our most popular season because the flowers are in bloom from the winter. The only thing I have left is a State Room, the Moreland Room to be exact.”

A state room sounded large and very expensive. It was a good thing he wasn’t short on money. “I guess I will take it if it’s the only room you have.”

“The Moreland Room overlooks both the woodlands and the lake, each from separate windows, an antique furniture and a four poster king sized bed with our finest linens, a large but separate seating room, a gas fireplace, a standing bath, twin sinks, a separate shower, and peephole windows that also gives you a view of the garden.”

Ian wasn’t expecting her to give a full download on the entire room, but as the expensive ones go, he had a feeling she was required to list every amenity included. He didn’t halt her for it, asking her to stop or anything, but listened closely and thought for once it might be nice to have a room like that for a while. 

“The room is equipped with a large TV and DVD player, also WiFi is available in each room but we do have an office for your convenience. We offer free breakfast in the dining room or room service, whichever you prefer. We have a cafe and afternoon tea in the garden.”

The TV and DVD player would go unused the entire trip. Even after spending all day out and about, he didn’t like to unwind with mindless TV, all they talked about were bad things happening in the world and he wanted no part in that. The view of the forest and the gardens would be nice, he could sit by the window while he sorted through all his photos and decided what he liked the most. Room service was always a must, he didn’t like to go down to the lobby or dining areas for people to watch him eat when he could easily do it from the comfort of his own room. The cafe would also be welcomed, he practically lived on coffee and needed as much as he could get when pulling long hours. 

“Also, we have a wine cellar, a grand hall, over four different gardens, the lake. quite a bit of wildlife on our property. We offer tours as well, which would take you to all those places although we ask you not to touch the animals.” 

A happy laugh bubbled up his throat before he could help it. “I’ll try not to.” 

She gave him a fond look. “Okay, the total is…”

Ian held his hand up and she stopped. “I’m okay without the total. Just charge it all to my card.”

“Alright.” She said after a minute, a little frazzled. The computer beeped, a receipt was printed and she handed it over along with the credit card. “Your room is up the stairs to your left, last door on the right. Please let me know if you need anything.”

“I will, thank you.” Ian smiled as he took the card back and the receipt was stuffed into his back pocket. He bent down, bent down to grab his bag—thankfully it had wheels, then his camera bag and headed for the stairs. He would pick the only hotel with no elevator. 

His room was as she said it would be, only much better. Ian hadn’t been expecting to actually like it so much. He set his heavy bag by the closet, then walked to the giant bed and set his camera bag down. With a quick glance around the room, Ian decided to order food first, then hop in the shower as he waited. The menu for room service was extensive and he chose the first thing that caught his eye before he grabbed the phone on the desk.

It rang twice before it was answered. “Kitchen, how may I help you?”

“Yes, I’m in the Moreland Room, I’d like the Irish Stew, please.”

“Of course, sir. Small, medium, or large?”

Ian’s stomach grumbled, deciding for him. “Large please. And do you by chance have any Soda Bread?”

“Yes, of course. I will add it. And to drink?”

“Guinness, please.” Ian relied automatically and knew one drink wouldn’t hurt him if he planned on going out that evening. “Add some water to that too, please.”

“Anything else?”

“I think that covers it.”

“Very good, sir. It will take at least half an hour as the hotel is very busy but we are moving as quickly as we can.”

“Half an hour sounds great, thank you.” Ian hung up and instantly walked into the large bathroom.

The bathtub looked inviting but if he planned to go out like he wanted to, he would need a shower. Baths always made him sleepy, relaxing all those sore muscles. He didn’t want to just fall asleep and stay in bed until tomorrow. So the shower it was. He started it, mostly using hot water, then went back out into his room and dug through his bag for clean clothes. Jeans—ones he didn’t mind getting dirty, a dark blue thermal, a pair of underwear and socks and he tossed them all onto the bed before returning back to the bathroom.

Without wasting time, but not wanting to rush, Ian did all the things he needed to, mostly just washing away both the train ride to Gorey and the bus ride the rest of the way. Although transportation was clean and professional, his skin felt tight all over, itchy in a way sweating made you and sitting shoulder to shoulder on the bus didn’t help. He washed and scrubbed and made sure his hair was squeaky clean before he stepped out, dried off, wrapped a towel around his hips and walked back into his room.

Ian was dressed and looking out at the garden when there was a knock on his door. He answered in and let him inside, wheeling a large cart. Ian gave him a smile, tipped him and waited for him to leave before he ate just about everything, the cart and silverware included. He did as the menu had said and pushed the cart against the wall in the hallway and left it to be picked up. 

As appealing as crawling into bed sounded, especially if he were to light that fire, he didn’t. He grabbed the Peak Design Everyday Backpack—which he used as his camera bag, off the bed and emptied it onto the table in the seating area and replaced his dead batteries with new ones, his memory cards as well. He changed out a few of his lenses for longer ones, ones capable of seeing up into the tallest trees. He made sure to grab his tripod out of his other bag and the rain cover just in case it decided to rain. He packed it all back into the bag, pulled on his Black Hooded Leather Bomber jacket that he bought from the Jacket Arena, then put the strap of his bag against one shoulder, made sure he had his room key and wallet and took the stairs back down into the lobby, grabbed one of the free maps of the areas, then stepped outside. 

Ian followed the map, making sure not to run into anyone along the way, and quickly made his way to the less populated areas of town. Along the way, more than beautiful scenery caught his eye, but a few guys hanging out at the local bar. It was nice enough to sit outside, as they had and when Ian passed their table, he admitted to looking far longer than was deemed appropriate. He caught their eyes, curious or interested, he wasn’t sure he’d ever know, but smiles were traded, his body was responsive and he knew that if he wasn’t there for work, he’d likely be trolling the bars for there were some good looking men all around him. 

When the map no longer told him where to go, Ian folded it back up and tucked it into the side pocket of his backpack and headed towards a group of people gathered around, talking, holding what looked like cups of coffee in their hands and had fanny packs around their waists, way more touristy than he was. He approached with a smile and they stopped talking to look at him. 

“Hello, I was wondering if you knew of any places in the woods that aren’t as populated and well traveled as others.” 

One woman, she had a kind smile and white hair nodded and stepped in the center of their little circle. “New here, huh?”

“Oh, very. First afternoon actually.”

She laughed. “It took us a few days to get the hang of it too, but as you can see, we are the tourists all those locals talk about. We like the populated places.”

Ian grinned. “And I’m sure those are wonderful places to visit but I’m looking for something more secluded. I’m a photographer and need to take a few pictures, ones that aren’t all over the internet.”

“There is a well known trail just south of here, not too far actually. It pretty much gives you signs where to turn to get to the end, which is what we did.” She paused while the rest of them laughed and Ian decided that he really liked this group of women. “But we saw a path or two that was blocked off, there were signs not to go down that way for one reason or another. I’m sure if you start there you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

A path that was closed off from everyone, one that was probably a little risky or dangerous even is exactly what he was looking for. They must have known because they smiled at him. “That is exactly the kinda thing I am looking for, thank you.”

“You are most welcome. Just be careful and try not to get lost. We don’t need more tourists going missing.” She joked and moved back into the group with her friends. 

Ian turned, took out the map and found which trail she had been talking about. They must have just come off it because the map said it was nearby. He walked rather quickly, more excited the closer he became and within ten minutes, he was standing at what could only be described as a giant wall of trees, a literal wall that extended as far as the eye could see in both directions. The trail was obvious, the ground upturned from thousands of people walking along it, sticks and twigs cracked or broken, footprints even. 

“This better be worth it.” Ian mumbled to himself and started down the worn trail.

It wasn’t without beauty, it had its own, like most places do. Different kinds of trees and plants, bugs, birds. But it was nothing he hadn’t seen already. He walked further in, not taking out his camera just yet, and followed the path. Deeper and deeper into the trees, some so tall they cloaked the sun from getting inside and down to him, which in turn made it colder. Cold enough for him to zip up his jacket and wish he brought a hat or a beanie with him to cover his ears.

About half an hour later, Ian finally found what he’d been looking for and that woman was right, to the left of the main path, there were a few others that split off in opposite directions, leading deeper and deeper into the woods. The trail was blocked by a rope connected by two separate trees, one on each side of the path. Clearly they didn’t want anyone to go down there, maybe actual danger or people just getting lost trying to play ‘survivor’ when really they needed someone to hold their hand the entire way.

Ian took a second and looked at the map once more. He found the trail he was on as clear as day and saw where it came out the other side of the woods, almost across town. But there were no signs of other trails, none marked, leading him to believe people really weren’t supposed to go down there. In that direction, although not shown on the map, were trees, miles and miles of trees. It seemed harmless enough and he tucked the map away and stepped over the rope. 

Without wanting to sound superstitious, he acknowledged the difference between that known trail and the one he was on. It was a feeling, maybe because he wasn’t supposed to be there. It left him a little colder. But not wanting to turn back over a simple change in the temperature, Ian tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and continued slowly down the trail. It wasn’t worn like the other one, the trail itself was nearly covered in vegetation, making it hard to see the path underneath. 

The further in he wandered, the darker it because. The shadows seemed darker, heavier, like they were looming over him. When he looked up, there was no sign of the sun, or the clouds and the blue sky, just foliage. The trail he started off on was now nonexistent. He couldn’t even tell which was he came in, or which was the way out and he wasn’t that concerned for the sweeper he went, the more beautiful it all became. 

Ian stopped and swung his backpack to the front of his body and dug out his camera, the Fujifilm XT4, his best, most expensive camera. He found the lense he needed, clicked it into place, zipped up his bag and looped his other arm through it. He tested the focus, turning the lense back and forth until he could focus. The first few pictures were ordinary, one of a big tree with light pink and yellow flowers fully in bloom, he even captured the pile of petals on the ground beneath it and a chipmunk before he scurried away inside the tree. Then he took a few pictures of a brook a few feet to his left, barely an inch wide, leaking water slowly down the oncoming hill. 

The colors were incredible, not just the different trees but all of it. The flowers, the leaves, a few birds he saw along the way, bugs, animals. Nothing bigger than a rabbit, but still beautiful. He took photos as he walked, not really trying to make them perfect as he normally would, but taking them along the way in whatever way they came out. Most would be blurry, but it was easy to catch things he might not see if he’d been sitting still as he took them. 

On the path, or what was left of the path, was a giant tree, right in the center. It wasn’t tall like the others, but wide, taking up the entire space. Ian stopped right in front of it, his camera hanging around his neck and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Houses, little houses built right into the holes in the trees. Knotholes and spaces between the trees and the ground had little doors on them, like a dollhouse. Some were painted while others resembled the tree itself, covered in moss and sap and chipped in places. There were flowers growing all around it, little bugs scurried into the gaps between the doors and ants moved up the tree in a line. 

Ian couldn’t understand it. Why would someone venture all the way out there to create what...what did he even call this? Animal houses, bird houses? Something someone did just for the fun of it, to be creative? It was confusing, but no less beautiful and he took photo after photo of all the little doors and flowers and one even had a chimney while another had little stepping stones that led to the doors. At the base of the free, there was a circle of red and white mushrooms. Neatly placed, half an inch apart before there was another one and it circled the entire tree—he walked all the way around to make sure and did his best not to trample over it. 

By the time he walked around it again to get to the other side, he was feeling rather giddy for some reason. Happy. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much and he knew his face was a little flushed but a calmness spread around him, making him feel as light as the wind that rushed past, blowing leaves and flowers across his boots. 

Just when he thought he’d seen the last of that weirdly decorated tree, he began to notice more just like it. Not just in a tree, but spread all around the woods. He found another one, this one painted purple and sporting what looked to be fake diamonds—probably stickers— hung from a strong branch, right over his head. Ian looked up, the camera at his face and took another photo. The more he saw, now in other bright colors, the more he began to realize that these were not little homes for animals, but for fairies. He saw more than one Tinker Bell movie with his niece to know that these were fake little fairy houses. 

The little houses he’d seen like that back in Chicago, had been in normal places like a garden, usually created by older women or young little girls, like Franny with a wild imagination and not a care in the world about them being fake. Fairies were as real as mermaids or vampires or the monster under her bed. Her overactive imagination was to blame but given that she was only six, she had an excuse. 

Why anyone would place them out here of all places was beyond him. Maybe the locals thinking it’s cute, or a kid deciding she wanted a fairy house...or a fairy village by the amount of them, deep in the woods where no one would see it. It was a sweet thought, interesting to photograph but weird all at the same time. 

Ian took a snap of each of them before moving on. 

Ian walked for almost a half an hour before an eerie, terrifying feeling washed over his entire body, engulfing him. He stopped dead in his tracks, looking around for signs of wolves—which he knew were all over Ireland, but didn’t see anything like that. He didn’t see much of anything aside from what looked to be a runned down cottage buried in the foreground of the trees. It was old, hundreds of years old by the looks of it. Wildlife had completely taken over, moss and vines grew on the sides, a tree had started growing through the broken chimney and one window. It looked like something out of a horror movie and that unease he felt before amplified the longer he looked at it. 

The fence around it was broken, withering away from the elements, becoming one with nature yet again. What could have been a garden before was a wild garden now with flowers and weeds sticking up all over the place, a tree trunk or two as well. The path that once led up to it was all but gone, leaving maybe one stepping stone still visible, cracked and chipped. The windows were so dark you probably couldn’t see inside even if you had your face up against it. 

There was something seriously wrong with that cottage. Something evil—which Ian didn’t believe in half of the time but when just the sight of it made him want to run back the other way, he truly believed something was wrong with it. 

Without stopping and taking a photo, he all but ran as far away from it as possible until that feeling lessened, then went away all together. He paused, out of breath, his hands shaking and did his best to collect himself. He sat down on a broken tree stump and put his head in his hands and breathed slowly. In through his nose, out through his mouth, trying to take in the fresh air, air that no longer seemed dragged down by whatever was making him feel like someone walked over his grave. 

He was tempted to call it a day, to take his ass all the way down the path, past that creepy cottage and back into the safety of town and his hotel room but it seemed silly letting something so childish scare him like that. Whatever he was feeling was all in his head, letting the dark, dense woods heighten all his senses until he felt too much about one thing or another. 

That cottage was just a cottage. Abandoned and forgotten but just bricks and cement barely holding it together. One day it would crumble to the ground and no one would even know about it. The trees would grow through it, vegetation would overrun it in a matter of years until it was just a relic. 

Twenty minutes later, now void of all those strange feelings, Ian came to clearing in the trees. The path seemed to stop, making way for a field of flowers. All sorts of flowers, white ones and yellow ones, blue ones, some big, some small, but they took over every inch of the space in front of him, creating one beautiful image and the smell was intoxicating. 

Ian approached carefully, side stepping another one of those mushroom circles off to the side and set his backpack down against the side of a tree. With the camera focused and up to his eye, he used the recording feature before he moved to stills. He took in everything from the trees, all kinds ranging from Rowan, Blackthorn with the blue-black berries, to large Willows and Oaks, to all the flowers, spanning across the entire meadow. Then he started taking photographs, moving into the space, trying not to step on all the flowers, but missing all of them was unavoidable. He moved until he was in the center, then stopped. 

“God,” Ian said as he let the camera hang from his neck again. He tipped his head back and took in a deep breath. His body relaxed, easing all that tension from before. “This place is unreal.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ian caught something flying across from one flower to the next. It was quick, too quick to see clearly. It could have been a bug or a bird or a butterfly, but it was fast. Ian looked around, squinting so when it moved again, he’d be able to see it. But nothing happened. Whatever it was didn’t move or fly to the next flower. It had him thinking it had been a trick of the light and that explanation worked for him...for about ten minutes before he heard something, almost like a jingling sound coming from a Lily on the other side of the meadow, right where he lost sight of it. 

On quiet feet, making sure to avoid the twigs and dead leaves scattered under the flowers, Ian made his way over to a patch of Lilies growing at the base of a withering tree trunk. It looked old, just like that cottage, although it didn’t give him the same weird feelings. It was just a dead tree, rotting slowly, quietly. The beautiful flowers all around it looked a little out of place. Now beside the group of flowers, Ian slowly lowered himself until the tops of their white petals brushed against his legs. 

It happened again, a soft, nearly silent jingle. Like a bell. It wasn’t a hum of a lightning bug or the flap of wings from a butterfly, but a jingle. 

Curious, but cautious, Ian ran the tips of his fingers against all the white petals. They moved hard enough to disturb any insects hiding within but soft enough not to dislodge the petals. They were soft like silk, had a heavenly smell and stained his fingers with yellow pollen but there was nothing else. Nothing to indicate something was hiding, but he knew there was. He saw it, he heard it, it had to be in one of the flowers. 

Most of them were open, as they should be in spring time, but a few of them seemed to be late bloomers. They were half opened, one or two petals fell to the side, but others were closed completely. Ian focused on those first, gentle spreading their petals to glance inside and for the first two dozen, all he saw was pollen. He was about to give up and chalk the sound up to his imagination when a flower closest to the tree—one of the closed ones—was wiggling as if there was something inside.

Ian smiled, proud of his mediocre detective skills. He gently shifted the petals again, like he had before, but there was something inside. Not a bug or a butterfly, although it had the wings like one, just much smaller. Nestled in the center, curled up in the fetal position was...something. Something that looked a little like a human if it was put into a shrinking machine a few times, but it had a paper thin, beautiful blue set of translucent wings attached to its back...his back. From what he could make of it—which wasn’t much and there was a chance he had fallen down or ran into a low hanging branch and was delusional—inside was a man, a sleeping, unreal looking, tiny little man, covered in yellow pollen. 

With wide eyes, moving slowly and afraid to breathe, Ian lifted his camera up to his face, turned off the flash and before he could wake up from whatever dream he was having, he snapped a photo.

It all went downhill after that. 

The little man inside woke up. Jolting like someone kicked him, his face, so small and very lifelike twisted into something that resembled shock, then looked right at him. Ian didn’t know what to do, or not to do or if it was even real but his camera dropped from his hands and he stumbled back just as whatever the hell that thing was stood up...no, not stood, but lifted into the air, those tiny little wings flapping as fast as a hummingbirds.

“What the fuck?” Ian whispered and fell back, tripping over an overgrown root that he didn’t remember being there. He landed on his ass, backing up slowly as it flew up from the flower, shaking pollen left and right and came right at him. “What the fuck!!”

His voice rose, echoing off the trees, making the sound bounce back at him...at them like the boom of a canon. The man...whatever the hell he was, flew away in a flash, leaving a trail of sand behind, or dirt, dust maybe and without thinking of why and why not, Ian stood, grabbed his backpack and took off after it. He ran and ran, dodging trees that seemed to spring out of nowhere, getting tangled in low hanging vibes until finally he lost it...he lost him. He was just gone. Ian looked all around, down below, up above, everywhere but he wasn’t there.

“What the actual fuck?” Ian whispered, out of breath, his chest heaving, his blood pumping like lava through his veins. 

The loud howl of a wolf was the only sound that responded. It sounded like it was five feet away from him and even when Ian didn’t see anything, he felt that rising fear of being hunted and took off back the way he came. He ran back down the path, past the mushroom circles and the creepy, eerie cottage, then the tree with all the little doors and windows, then finally, finally, when he thought he couldn’t run anymore and that maybe that wolf was hot on his heels, that rope came into view. Ian jumped it then continued running down the trail, bumping into people, tripping over sticks and his own feet for what seemed like forever until finally he cleared the tree line all together and was back where he started. 

By the time he was halfway to his hotel, his entire body was a quaking mess. He was sweating so much he had to peel off his jacket and roll up his sleeves. His chest hurt from the lack of air as he ran, his legs hurt from actually running and the adrenaline just kept on coming. All his emotions flared up all at once, from fear to wonder and amazement, excitement, and sadness...the need to cry literally choking him up, he couldn’t help but feel them all. 

When someone’s hand landed on his shoulder, he jerked back like that person shoved him and turned so fast he fell right in his ass, just like he had before. His arms were flailing around like a maniacs, his eyes were probably wide and filled with tears, his hands shaking. Whoever it was bent down next to him and laid a comforting hand against his shoulder. He was worried. 

“Son, are you alright?” The man asked.

Ian shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again. “I don’t know.” He turned, not wanting his back to the woods even if it was far enough away for him to relax. “There was something in there. Something...just something.”

The old man looked behind him, towards the woods. “There are millions of things in those woods.”

“This wasn’t supposed to be in there.” Ian met the guy's eyes and could have sworn he looked amused. Either way, he shook off the man's hand and stood up, backing towards the hotel with his eyes in the distance. 

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”

Ian pulled at his hair, shaking his head, he never stopped moving back, further and further away. “No, I’m not going to be okay. Not even a little bit.”


End file.
